


Nothing?

by heeroluva



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:05:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1426186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/pseuds/heeroluva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at Bucky's progression through the movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing?

He had no concept of self outside of being a tool, a weapon. He was an asset that took orders and followed them with no thought of his own wellbeing, no thought except getting the job done. No matter the cost. There was nothing except the mission.

He was nothing.

Sometimes as he stuck the guard in his mouth and laid back, bracing for the pain that he knew would come, that always came, he’d briefly wonder if there was a time before, a time when he fought it. But then all those doubts, all his thoughts, everything that was him was washed away and cleansed in a world of pain.

He was nothing.

Never had he hesitated. Never had he questioned. Never did he doubt or wonder. Yet, that man with the shield, Captain America, Steve Rogers, looked at him with such recognition and pain as though he’d known him. He called him Bucky. As he was strapped into his chair, he held onto that name and could not help but wonder.

Was he nothing?

Kill Captain America at any cost. Those were his orders. Yet, he hesitated. He could have taken the kill shot, yet each time he missed. Why, he didn’t know. Pinned and helpless, the Captain could have been done with him, let him die there and not risked his own life. Instead, the man freed him, called him Bucky, called him friend. It made no sense, the way he didn’t defend himself. Never had he encountered someone so strange. Again he hesitated.

Was he something?

As Captain America fell into the Potomac below them, a part of him screamed. He didn’t think as he dove into the water and pulled the other man to the surface. Never had an action felt so right. Dragging him to the shore, again he hesitated. However, self-preservation kicked in, and he turned and ran.

What was he?

Questions and turmoil raced through his mind as his feet took him to where he was programed, took him to the bunker. Blood and chaos greeted him. Death was no stranger to him. Their deaths should have meant nothing to him. Yet, they did. Dropping to his knees he gripped his head and screamed.

Who was he?

The freedom of choice. The freedom to do as he willed. They had never been part of his programing, so he struggled. A part of him said to go to ground, to tend his wounds and hide away. To wait. Another part of him, the part that he found himself listening to more and more, told him to search, to question.

Was he Bucky?

“Bucky.” He tested the name. That’s who the Captain said he was. James Buchanan Barnes. The name meant nothing to him. Yet clearly Steve Rogers thought it should. He had questions, and for the first time, he had the freedom to find the answers he sought.

Who was Bucky?

The Smithsonian had a display with his face, yet, it was innocent and open in way that he had never been. Was that truly him? What did that make him? There was only one person alive who had the answers.

Did he dare to seek them?

_Yes._


End file.
